DOUBLE OR MULTIPLEX PERSONALITY.
If there be any one thing in the empirical psychology of the past which
has been considered settled past all controversy, it is the unity and
continuity of human personality. Whatever might be believed or doubted
concerning the after life, for this life at least believers and skeptics
alike are united in the full assurance of a true, permanent, and
unmistakable self. The philosopher Reid, a hundred years ago, in
discussing this subject, wrote as follows:--
"My thoughts and actions and feelings change every moment. They have no
continued but a successive existence, but that self or I to which they
belong is permanent, and has the same relation to all succeeding thoughts,
actions, and feelings which I call mine. The identity of a person is
perfect--it admits of no degrees--and is not divisible into parts."
Now, while this dogma, which still expresses the general consensus of
mankind, may in a sense be well founded, still certain facts have been
ascertained by the observant scouts in the outlying fields of psychology
which, unless they can be interpreted to mean something different from
their seeming and obvious import, make strongly against that stability and
unquestioned oneness of human personality about which every individual in
his own consciousness may feel so absolutely certain. What are these facts
which have come to the notice of students of psychology?
The case of Felida X., reported by Dr. Azam of Bordeaux, is one of the
earliest to attract the serious attention of medical men and students of
psychology, and has become classic in relation to the subject.
She was a nervous child, given to moody spells and hysterical attacks,
and, in 1856, when she was about fourteen years of age, she also began to
have more serious attacks of an epileptiform character, from which she
would emerge into a new and unusual condition, which was at first taken to
be somnambulism. In this condition her general appearance was quite
changed, and she talked and acted in a manner altogether different from
her usual self. These attacks were at first very brief, lasting only a few
minutes, but gradually they increased in duration until they occupied
hours, and even days.
In her usual state she had no recollection and no knowledge whatever of
her second condition, and the whole time spent in that condition was to
her a blank; on the other hand, all the different occasions when she had
been in this second condition were linked together, constituting a
distinct chain of memories and a personality just as consciously distinct
and conspicuous as her original self. In her second state she not only had
the distinct memories connected with her own secondary personality, but
she also knew facts concerning the first or original self, but only as she
might have knowledge of any other person.
The two personalities were entirely different in character and
disposition; the original one was sickly, indolent, and melancholy, while
the new one was in good health, and in disposition bright, cheerful, and
industrious. She married early in life, and was intelligent and efficient
in the care of her family, rearing children and attending to the little
business of a shop. At length this secondary self came to occupy nearly
the whole time, and considered herself the normal personality, as, indeed,
she was, being superior in every way to the original one. She knew very
well how unhappy and miserable was the condition of the primary self,
and, while she pitied her and did what she could to assist her, she
disliked to have her return. She called the condition of the primary self,
"that stupid state."
The lapses of the original or No. 1 personality became at length so
frequent, or rather, so continuous, that she lost the proper knowledge and
relation of things about her. She was a stranger in her own home, and on
that account became still more morose and melancholy. To relieve as much
as possible this distressing state of affairs the second self, or No. 2,
when she knew that No. 1 was about to appear, would write her a letter,
informing her of the general condition of the household, whom she might
expect to meet, and where she would find certain needful articles; she
would also offer advice regarding the conduct of affairs, which was always
appropriate and useful and far superior to the judgment of the original
self in the matters to which it referred.
As a second well marked and abundantly authenticated example of this
divided or secondary personality, I will refer to a case in our own
country and in our own vicinity.
Jan. 17th, 1887, Ansel Bourne, an evangelist, left his home in Rhode
Island, and, after transacting some business in Providence, one item of
which was to draw some money to pay for a farm for which he had bargained,
he went to Boston, then to New York, then to Philadelphia, and, finally,
to Norristown, Penn., fifteen or twenty miles from Philadelphia, where he
opened a small store for the sale of stationery, confectionery, and
five-cent articles. In this business he was known as A. J. Brown. He lived
in a room partitioned off from the back of the store, eating, sleeping,
and doing his own cooking there. He rented the store from a Mr. Earl, who
also, with his family, lived in the building. Mr. Brown went back and
forth to Philadelphia for goods to keep up his stock, and seems to have
conducted his business as if accustomed to it.
Sunday, March 13th, he went to church, and at night went to bed as usual.
On Monday, March 14th, about 5 o'clock in the morning, he awoke and found
himself in what appeared to him an altogether new and strange place; he
thought he must have broken into the place, and was much troubled, fearing
arrest. Finally, after waiting two hours in great uneasiness of mind, he
got up and found the door locked on the inside. He went out into the hall,
and, hearing some one moving about, he rapped at the door. Mr. Earl, his
landlord, opened it, and said: "Good-morning, Mr. Brown."
"Where am I?" said Mr. Brown.
"You are all right," replied Mr. Earl.
"I'm all wrong, and my name is not Brown. Where am I?"
"You are in Norristown."
"Where is Norristown?"
"In Pennsylvania, about seventeen miles west of Philadelphia."
"What day of the month is it?" inquired Mr. Brown.
"The 14th," replied Mr. Earl.
"Does time run backward here? When I left home it was the 17th."
"Seventeenth of what?" said Mr. Earl.
"Seventeenth of January."
"Now it is the 14th of March," said Mr. Earl.
Mr. Earl thought Mr. Brown was out of his mind, and sent for a physician.
To the doctor he said his name was Ansel Bourne; that he remembered seeing
the Adams Express wagons on Dorrance Street in Providence on Jan. 17th,
and remembered nothing since, until he awoke here this morning, March
14th.
"These people," said he, "tell me that I have been here six weeks, and
have been living with them all this time; I have no recollection of ever
having seen one of them, until this morning."
His nephew, Mr. H., was telegraphed to in Providence.
"Do you know Ansel Bourne?"
Reply: "He is my uncle; wire me where he is, and if well."
Mr. H., went on to Norristown, took charge of his uncle and his affairs,
sold out his store property, and Mr. A. J. Brown went back and resumed his
life in Rhode Island as Ansel Bourne, but the time from Jan. 17th to March
14th was to him a blank.
Prof. James of Harvard and Dr. Hodgson, Secretary of the American Branch
of the Society for Psychical Research, who reported this case to the
society, now became interested in the matter. They went to see Ansel
Bourne and learned the above history; but of the journey from Providence
to Norristown in January no account of any kind could be obtained.
Finally, he was put into the hypnotic condition, when he was again A. J.
Brown, and gave a connected account of his journey to Boston, New York,
Philadelphia, and of his stay in each of these cities; of his arrival at
Norristown, and of his experience there up to the morning of March 14th,
when everything was again confused. As A. J. Brown he knew of Ansel
Bourne and of his remarkable history, but could not state positively that
he had ever met him.
This transition was repeatedly made. Immediately on being put in the
hypnotic trance and aroused to somnambulism he was A. J. Brown, a distinct
personality, perfectly sane, and with a full appreciation of the relation
of things as relating to that personality, and with a distinct chain of
memories, beliefs, and affections; but, when introduced to the wife of
Ansel Bourne, he entirely repudiated the idea of her ever having been his
wife, though he might some time have seen her.
Immediately on being awakened from this hypnotic condition he was Ansel
Bourne, with his usual consciousness, beliefs, affections, and chain of
memories; but the primary Ansel Bourne personality had no knowledge
whatever of the secondary, or A. J. Brown, personality, and for any act,
either criminal or righteous, committed by the person A. J. Brown, the
person Ansel Bourne had no more knowledge and consequently no more
responsibility than for any good or bad action committed by a person in
Australia and of whose existence he was ignorant.
A few other cases quite similar and in every respect of equal interest
have been observed, notably that known as Louis V., which was reported by
Dr. Voisin of Paris and by several other well-known French physicians,
under whose care from time to time he has been, and whose several reports
have been summed up by Mr. Frederick W. H. Myers, the efficient London
Secretary of the Society for Psychical Research.
Here the stability of personality was unsettled at the age of fourteen by
a terrible fright from a viper. Four or five distinct personalities were
represented.
(1) In his childhood, previous to his fright by the viper, he had good
health and was an ordinary, quiet, obedient, well-behaved boy.
(2) A new personality, of which the primary self had no knowledge, was
induced by the fright. This No. 2 personality had frequent epileptic
attacks, but was able to work, learning the trade of a tailor.
(3) After one of these attacks of great violence, lasting fifty hours,
another personality came to the surface--a greedy, violent, quarrelsome,
drunken, thievish vagabond, paralyzed on one side, and with an impediment
in his speech. He was an anarchist, an atheist, and a blackguard, always
ranting and thrusting his opinions upon those about him, perpetrating bad
jokes, and practicing disgusting familiarities with his physicians and
attendants. In this state, he knows nothing of the tailor's business, but
he is a private of marines.
(4) He is a quiet, sensible man, retiring in behavior and modest in
speech. If he is asked his opinions upon politics or religion, he
bashfully replies that he would rather leave such things to wiser heads
than his. In this condition he is without paralysis and speaks distinctly.
(5) As a man forty years of age he returns to the condition of childhood
previous to his fright--a child in intellect and knowledge, having no
occupation; he is simply an ordinary, quiet, well-behaved, obedient boy.
Each of these personalities was distinct from all the others; the earlier
ones had no knowledge of those which came after them; the later ones had a
knowledge of the earlier ones, but only as they might have knowledge of
any other person.
A fourth typical case is that of Alma Z., recently reported by me for _The
Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases_. In this case, an unusually
healthy, strongly intellectual girl, an expert in athletic sport and a
leader wherever she might be, on account of overwork, and finally, of
broken-down health, developed a second, and, later, a third personality.
Each was widely different from the others, all were normal so far as a
perfect knowledge of and adaptation to their surroundings were concerned,
and all were of unusual intellectual force and brightness, as well as
moral worth; but each was distinct, peculiar, and even in marked contrast
to the others in many important characteristics. No. 1 had no knowledge of
No. 2 nor of No. 3, except from circumstances and the report of others,
and also from letters which passed between them giving information to No.
1 regarding changes which had occurred in her absence, as, for instance,
of expected company or other engagement which it would be important for
her to know.
Both of the later personalities were peculiarly fond of No. 1, and devoted
to her welfare on account of her superior knowledge and admirable
character. The case has been under my observation, both professionally and
socially, for many years, and, in addition to its typical character, it
presented an example of the singular fact of the persistence of the later
personality, with the ability to observe, retain its chain of memories,
and afterward report them, while the primary self was at the same time the
dominant and active personality.
An instance of this occurred at one of the concerts of a distinguished
pianist a few years since. No. 3 was the reigning personality, and she was
herself a lover of music and an excellent critic. Beethoven's concerto in
C major was on the programme, and was being performed in a most charming
manner by soloist and orchestra. I was sitting near her in the box, when
all at once I noticed a change in the expression of her face, which
denoted the presence of No. 1. She listened with intense interest and
pleasure to the performance, and at its close I spoke a few words to her,
and she replied in her usual charming manner. It was No. 1 without doubt.
Soon after, she leaned back in her chair, took two or three quick, short
inspirations, and No. 3 was present again. She turned to me smiling and
said:
"So No. 1 came for her favorite concerto; wasn't it splendid that she
could hear it?"
I said: "Yes; but how did you know she was here?"
"Oh, I sat on the front of the box," she said. "I heard the music, too,
and I saw you speaking to her."
The four cases here briefly outlined represent both sexes, two distinct
nationalities, and widely-varying conditions in life. In each case one or
more personalities crop out, so to speak, come to the surface, and become
the conscious, active, ruling personality, distinct from the original
self, having entirely different mental, moral, and even physical,
characteristics; different tastes, and different sentiments and opinions;
personalities entirely unknown to the original self, which no one
acquainted with that original self had any reason to suppose existed in
connection with that organization.
The cases present so many points of similarity in their history as to
render it probable, if not certain, that some common principle, law, or
mental state underlies them all--some law which, if clearly defined, would
be valuable in reducing to order the seemingly lawless mass of phenomena
which constantly meets us in this new and but little explored field of
research.
It may be, also, that other mental states more frequently met with and
more easily observed present points in common with these more striking and
unusual ones; and that they also may assist us in finding the clue.